


Write | dh+pl

by dils_whisk



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Poor!Dan, Rich!Phil, painter!phil, writer!Dan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-02-23 14:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13192248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dils_whisk/pseuds/dils_whisk
Summary: "You know, as much as I'd love to be rich, I don't think I'll ever believe money can buy happiness.""And why is that?""Well, I can barely pay for my groceries but I still ended up with you, didn't I?"-Or in which Dan is an aspiring writer with money troubles and Phil is a wealthy artist.Triggers: night terrors, mild anxiety, mentions of murder (message me for more details if you need them)





	1. Chapter 1

April 17th

Dan stared blankly at his old typewriter, pondering on how to form the tangle of ideas and dialogue in his mind into ink on paper. Writer's block was possibly the most infuriating thing in the world.  
He reached forward slowly, placing his finger on the cool, concave keys his fingers fit so well. He rapidly typed out the first sentence.  
The darkness clawed at my mind, daring me to give up and fall into its cold, dead grasp.  
He stared at the words sitting on the paper, slightly hidden by the ribbon placed so carefully in the metal holder. It was incredulous really; how one minute he could sit down and type out an entire short story without even thinking about it, then other times he would stare at his blank sheet of paper for hours at a time, slowly being driven mad by his own disability to form words.  
I tried to escape; to run as far as I could from the grotesque monsters lurking where only the daftest of people dared to adventure.  
Dan bit his lip, carefully analyzing the words.  
That didn't sound right.  
The young man tried again, erasing the previous sentence.  
I tried to free myself from the hellish mental stage I had so foolishly allowed myself to fall into. But then again, even the most valiant and insolent of individuals would find themselves trapped in this horrific abyss of depression and self-loathing.  
The paragraph became easier and easier to write, and Dan found himself smiling as he stared at the paper. Now he was getting somewhere.  
It was as if all the will to live had been sucked out of me. I could hear whispers in the dark telling me to give up. Telling me to just pick up a gun and shoot it through my head. I tried to shove them aside, trudging unwillingly forward.  
The young author continued writing, giving no thought to the small, cheap alarm clock that ticked further and further into the night.  
.......................................................  
Dan awoke from his deep sleep just as the sun broke its way over the horizon, casting small flecks of golden light in his hair. The man sat up, rubbing his eyes groggily. He had no idea on when he fell asleep, but he figured it didn't matter considering he woke up in time for work anyway.  
Before he did anything else, Dan picked up the several papers of the story he had written last night, and quickly skimmed over them. Needless to say, he was terribly disappointed. The story was okay, he supposed, but it didn't have the mood he was hoping for.  
Dan couldn't stress enough how much this story meant to him. It was his entry for a writing contest he had signed up for. Dan loved writing, it was his passion, his hobby, it was him. But his love for writing wasn't the only reason he had decided to join this competition. The winner got a cash prize of 700 pounds; and hell, Dan could use the money. He wasn't what you would call poor exactly, but bills were steadily getting harder and harder to pay for, and although he had a job running a small bookstore in town, business wasn't exactly booming. The average daily pay he got was only around forty-five pounds, barely enough to cover his expenses. This money was just what he needed to give himself a financial boost.  
Dan stood up from his desk, wincing as he felt the delayed effect of falling asleep in an old, wooden chair. His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the ferocious growling of his stomach. Shuffling tiredly over to his fridge, he flung the door open, revealing a few beers, a bottle of vodka, and some old left-overs he forgot to throw out.  
The pantry wasn't in any better condition.  
The male groaned, running a hand through his curly brown locks. If he left now, he would have enough time to get a coffee and a breakfast from the local café before he opened at 9:30.  
Begrudgingly, he hurried off to his room to get dressed.  
...................................................  
Clad in a pair of white skinny jeans and a black, oversized sweater, Dan made his way out of his flat into the bookstore/first story part of his house  
Although the musty book smell was everywhere in his flat, it was the most potent in the shop. Dan never complained though, in fact, he adored the smell. It gave him the nostalgic feel of when he was young and used to help his grandpa at the library. This was where Dan presumed he got his love for reading and writing.  
He swung the shop door open, stepping into the streets. A gentle, warm breeze tousled his curly, brown hair, the dark strands blowing around in the soft winds.  
Dan allowed a small smile to creep onto his face as his eyes glided over the happy little town. As he walked to the café a few blocks down, he began to mentally narrate the scene before him, something he had started doing to help himself practice writing.  
The sky was a crisp, blue color with the occasional wispy cloud scattered here and there. A cool, but pleasant spring breeze swept across the town, rustling the flowers on potted plants outside of shop windows. There were a few cars here and there, but the town was just waking up, and the real traffic was yet to come.  
Dan continued his mental game until he reached the coffee shop. The man swung open the door, being greeted immediately by the pleasant aromas of coffee and ornamental French pastries he had never heard of.  
"Dan!" A cheerful, feminine voice called out.  
Dan looked up, smiling when Louise came walking out of the kitchen, wiping flour off of her hands and onto her pink apron.  
"Morning Lou!" The shop must have only just opened, seeing as he was—surprisingly--the only customer so far.  
"The same as usual I presume?" She asked, preparing Dan his coffee.  
He nodded before adding, "And a muffin as well please, chocolate!"  
"Sure thing!" She smiled, brushing a golden blonde strand of hair out of her eyes.  
The brunet took a seat down at the bar, fiddling mindlessly with a straw wrapper.  
"So how's the story coming?" She asked, snapping Dan out of his thoughts.  
Dan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know Lou, I mean, I liked it at first, but the more I think about it the more I feel like it's not really what I wanted it to be. My original plan was to write an inspirational-cliché type story, but it ended up turning into a horror story about depression." He groaned, hanging his head in his hands.  
"Aw Dan, don't worry, I'm sure you will think of something eventually!" She gave Dan an affectionate smile. "I mean, you're practically the best writer in town! I don't see why you don't get something published, especially that story about the detective solving that murder case, only to find out that the killer is his own assistant! That's one of my favorites!"  
Dan shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I will someday... I just never have time." Or the money. He added mentally.  
He pulled out his wallet to pay for his drink and muffin, but Louise waved her hand nonchalantly. "It's on the house."  
Dan looked at his friend with fault. "No, no, Louise it's fine, really. I can pay" Dan's friends pitied him for his money troubles and took every opportunity they could to help him out. He knew they meant well, but frankly it always just made him feel rather guilty and helpless.  
The man tried to argue, but Louise was having none of it. "Consider it an early birthday gift." She insisted after Dan's fifth attempt to talk her out of it.  
Dan finally gave up, rolling his eyes but grinning slightly. "OK, fine. I need to get to work now, but I'll be sure to stop by for lunch." Dan waved to Louise as he turned to walk out of the café, coffee and muffin in hand  
"Alrighty! See ya!" Louise called out after her friend as he walked into the cool, morning air and began walking back to work.  
Dan had a slight spring in his step as he strolled down the sidewalk. He wasn't quite sure why, but he could just tell that today was going to be a good day.  
A/N: I hope you guys liked it! please comment/vote! Next part is coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit short oops

April 17th

Dan swallowed the last bit of coffee, tossing the empty cup into the small, metal trashcan behind his desk. He glanced at his watch.  
9:27  
Pushing himself out of his chair, he walked over to the door, flipping the small sign that hung in the door so that it now read 'open.'  
Dan took a moment to gaze out into the small-town streets. They would be filling with people soon, hopefully, some of who would bother to stop by.  
He turned back to his desk, sitting down and reclining back in the brown, leather chair. The typewriter loomed in front of him, a constant reminder of his inability to write something worth being published.  
Groaning, Dan let his head drop back against the chair. He glowered up at the ceiling, hoping to find even the most minuscule stimulus from the old cross-beams. Ideas swam through his head like minnows; every time one came into sight and he made a grasp for it, it would slip through his fingers.  
The school of thoughts in his head quickly scattered as the door swung open, the small bells emitting a high-pitched indication.  
"Welcome to Howell's Book Emporium, how may I help you?" Dan muttered in a monotone voice, inwardly wincing at his lack of enthusiasm. Looking up, he faltered as his gaze landed on the customer. He was possibly the most striking man Dan had ever seen.  
He had fair skin that seemed virtually void of any sort of blemish or deformation, his eyes were a mix of various shades of blue, changing as the light hit them. His hair was cut in a fringe and appeared to be black, but his eyebrows were a lighter color, suggesting he dyed it. He was rather tall, Dan noticed, quite possibly even taller than the young writer himself.  
His entire existence seemed too perfect to be real.  
It wasn't until he perceived the man giving him a strange look that Dan realized he had been staring. "S-sorry, what?" Dan sputtered out, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks.  
The good-looking man chuckled. "I was asking if you had any books on art?"  
"Um, yeah! Follow me." Dan beckoned for Phil to follow him, winding his way through the small shop to a back corner labeled Art and Photography.  
"So um, what type of art books were you looking for? The Dan inquired, forcing himself to tear his gaze from his customer and look at the shelves.  
"Something on various styles of painting maybe? I'm just browsing really."  
Dan skimmed the bookshelves, his fingers lightly brushing all of the covers until he found one he deemed suitable.  
"Ah! Yeah um, what about this?" Dan pulled out a colorful volume.  
"Art styles through the ages?" Phil read the cover, briskly thumbing through the book. "Yeah, thanks. This looks great." He looked up and gave Dan a smile, causing the man's knees to go slightly weak.  
The two proceeded to the checkout, Dan almost subconsciously ringing up the book.  
"So are you new around here? I don't recognize you," Dan asked lightly, trying to make conversation.  
"Yeah, I just moved from a few towns over. Oh, I'm Phil by the way, Phil Lester!" The ebony-haired man smiled, pulling out some money.  
"I'm Dan Howell." Dan looked up at Phil, giving him a shy smile.  
They fell into silence as Dan began bagging the book. Desperate to learn more about this Phil Lester, Dan made another feeble attempt at conversation. "So... are you an artist?"  
Dan was rather surprised as he saw a pink tint climb up into Phil's cheeks.  
"Oh, well-I um, I sometimes paint, but you know, I'm not that good or anything, it's-it's more of a hobby..." Phil's oceanic eyes glanced down towards the ground as he nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt-sleeve.  
The brunet chuckled slightly, handing Phil his book. "I'm sure you're amazing."  
Phil said nothing, but Dan could see the ghost of a smile creeping onto his face.  
"Will that be all for you today?" Dan asked as part of his standard procedure.  
"Um, yeah thanks! Although, you don't happen to know of a good place to get lunch around here, do you?" Phil inquired, glancing out the window.  
"Oh yeah, my friend Louise owns a café down the road, you should check it out!" Dan supplied him with one of the business cards Louise had given him a while ago. "If you say that Dan sent you then she'll give you a discount," he added as an afterthought  
"Thanks!" Phil grinned, turning to leave.  
"Have a nice day!" Dan called out as Phil swung the door open.  
"You too!" Phil turned around, his eyes shining in the light. "I'll be sure to stop by again sometime!"  
Dan nodded slightly, his gaze remaining on Phil until the tiny shop door had swung closed behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

April 17th

The day went by rather swiftly, unsurprising considering Dan had spent most of the day in his head. Although he worried about money (as usual) he spent a good deal of his time thinking about Phil. Even with Dan's writing skill, he doubted there were any words to properly describe the splendor of this man. This thought surprised him; their interaction had been brief, after all.  
The small grandfather clock behind Dan's desk let out eight chimes, signaling the end of Dan's work day. With a thankful sigh, he got up and walked to the door to lock up. Glancing out the window, he noticed that the sky had become a dark ashen color, billowing clouds swirling around threateningly. They usually didn't get storms around this time of year, but the ones they did were relatively severe. Dan never minded the storms; he enjoyed them actually. One of his favorite things to do was to curl up with his typewriter and write, listening to the orchestra of thunder and stormy gales outside. Maybe this storm was just what he needed for inspiration.  
After locking up, Dan began climbing wearily up the stairs, making his way into his trivial, but cozy, flat. Once there, he quickly changed into a pair of black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt then headed to the kitchen.  
Grabbing a box of leftover pizza from when Louise came over, Dan shoved it in the oven carelessly, pressing the 'reheat' button.  
Several minutes later, the pizza was properly warmed and Dan was sat down in front of his typewriter, watching the thunderous bolts of lightning shoot across the sky. The storm was really starting to grow, and large, heavy raindrops had begun splattering against his window.  
Dan turned his gaze back to his typewriter, and began typing, trying to piece together the idea that had formed in his head.  
“Bryan looked up at the dark castle looming up ahead. He was utterly clueless on how he ended up where he was, but he was even—"  
Dan stopped typing and leaned backward, closing his eyes.  
He had no idea where this story was going.  
He ripped the paper out of the typewriter, throwing it behind his head and into the small, dying fire.  
'Why can't I think of anything?!' He sighed, listening to the thunder rumbling overhead.  
Dan stood up, walking to the window and looking out onto the dark, watery streets.  
"C'mon Dan," He coaxed himself. "Just think of one little idea! It's not that hard to-"  
Knock, knock, knock.  
Dan's thoughts were interrupted by a loud, urgent knock on the door.  
Knock, knock, knock.  
The boy licked his lips uncertainly, debating on whether he should go answer it.  
"Who the hell would be at the door in a middle of a storm?" Dan silently asked himself, heading down the steps. It then occurred to him that those were possibly the most notorious 'famous last words' in every horror movie, ever.  
Dan stepped down cautiously into the dark bookstore walking over to the nearest lamp and flicking the light on. The light illuminated the room just enough for him to make out a pale face outside the door window, staring back at Dan.  
"Dan?" A muffled voice called, straining to be heard above the storm.  
It took Dan a moment for him to recognize the voice.  
Phil?  
Dan hurried over to the door, unlocking it and opening it quickly. Blown by the wind, the door swung almost all the way open, Dan catching it only just in time. A very wet, shivering Phil took a step into the closed shop, brushing his dripping hair out of his face.  
"Phil?" Dan looked at Phil, a puzzled look on his face.  
"Yeah, I'm really sorry to bother you. I just- my car broke down, and I tried calling my friend to come and get me but my phone died and I didn't know what to do so I walked around for a while until I ended up back here and I saw the lights on upstairs so I just prayed that it was you and knocked on your door, because I didn't know what else to do and-"  
Dan cut off Phil's rapid babbling. "Hey, It's alright, just calm down." Dan spoke softly, "Now what do you need? A phone? A place to stay...?"  
Phil shrugged, looking down at the floor nervously. "I-I don't know. I guess if you wouldn't mind me using your phone for a minute?"  
"Of course!" Dan exclaimed. "Here, follow me." Dan took Phil gently by the arm and escorted him upstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

April 17th

Dan led Phil up the stairs, noting to later clean up the trail of water that visitor left behind them.  
"I'm sorry about the clutter," Dan muttered as they walked into the flat.  
"Oh, it's fine!" Phil reassured him. "It makes it cozy if anything..." he spoke softly, talking to himself more than the brunette man in front of him.  
"Take this." Dan tossed Phil a fluffy towel, which the man quickly caught and wrapped around his shoulders.  
"Thanks." Phil shivered.  
Dan took a few strides across the room, grabbing his phone and turning back to Phil. "Here." He unlocked his phone and opened up the keypad for Phil to call his friend.  
"T-Thanks." Phil gave Dan a grateful smile, dialing his friend's number.  
"I'll go make us some coffee," The young author decided, turning towards the kitchen door.  
"Oh no, you don't have to do that..." Phil politely tried to decline Dan's offer, but he was having none of it.  
"You're freezing; I'm making you coffee!” Before Phil could object, Dan hurried off to the kitchen.

...

A few moments later, Dan returned, two steaming mugs in his hands. Phil was pacing around the opposite side of the room, having a rather intense conversation over the phone.  
"Look, Al, I'm really sorry, but please!  
I know, I know!  
You will? Oh, thank you so much!  
Ok, see you in a bit, bye." Phil ended the call and set Dan's phone down, running a hand through his hair and sighing.  
"Here's your coffee" Dan's voice pulled Phil out of his thoughts, causing him to jump.  
"Oh, thank you!" Phil took the cup graciously, giving Dan a smile.  
They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments, Dan sneaking the occasional glance at Phil.  
“How can he be so effortlessly attractive?” Dan wondered to himself, watching Phil sip lightly at his coffee. "So, what did your friend say?" He asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts.  
"He agreed to come pick me up...but he's at least an hour away. Is it okay if I stay here until he arrives?" Phil bit his lip nervously, looking at Dan.  
"Oh yeah, that' s fine! I wasn't really doing anything important anyway." Dan smiled reassuringly at Phil, trying to ignore the feeling of excitement that had nestled its way into his stomach.  
Phil sighed in relief. "I literally cannot thank you enough!"  
"It's my pleasure." Dan grinned.  
Phil beamed, pulling the towel tighter around his shoulders.  
"Oh, that reminds me!" Dan exclaimed, standing up quickly. "Stay here, I'll be right back."  
Dan hurried off into his room, quickly rummaging through the old oak draws of his dresser until he found a pair of black sweatpants. He tossed the clothes onto his bed as he made his way to his closet, browsing through his t-shirts until he found a plain white one that he thought would fit Phil. He began to walk into the lounge but quickly stopped in front of a mirror, making sure his hair looked alright.  
"Here." Dan walked out of his room with the clothes in his hands. "If you're going to be here for a while you might as well be comfortable.  
"No, Dan, you've already done so much for me, I'll be fine!"  
Dan just rolled his eyes, a small smile played on his face. "Phil, you're going to catch a cold! And besides, you're dripping water."  
Phil blushed slightly, muttering apologies.  
"It's fine, now get changed!" Dan handed the ebony-haired man the clothes, motioning to the nearest bathroom. Well, the only bathroom.  
Once Phil was out of the room, Dan made a quick attempt to tidy up.

…

By the time the whiny creaking of the bathroom door broke the quiet in the flat, Dan thought it was safe to say the room looked reasonably cleaner. And by 'reasonably cleaner' he meant that most of the assorted clothes and candy wrappers laying on the ground had been swept under the timeworn couch.  
"Thanks for lending me the clothes, the shirt is a bit snug, but it fits well enough." Dan heard Phil call out as he paced out into the lounge.  
"You're welcome." Dan finished hanging up a coat in the closet. "I'll put your wet clothes in the um…" Dan faltered as he turned around to face Phil.  
The shirt he had given Phil was a bit small for him, but it only showed off his figure more. His hair was still mostly straight, but the rain had caused certain strands to become wavy or tangled, giving him a rugged appearance.   
Being a writer, Dan tried to think of more unique and elegant ways to describe things, he enjoyed using the power of words to romanticize ordinary objects. But now his mind had gone mostly blank and all he could seem to think of was, “Oh my gosh, he's hot.”  
"Erm, Dan?" Phil waved slightly, pulling Dan out of his trance.  
"Oh, um, sorry I just- I just um, lost my train of thought..." Dan stammered out, a flush rapidly coloring his cheeks.  
Phil just laughed quietly, but there was an unmistakable smirk of amusement in his eyes.  
"I-I'll put your wet clothes in the dryer for you." Not waiting for Phil's consent, he snatched his old clothes out of his hands and quickly strode into the laundry room.

…

Phil watched Dan hurriedly shuffle out of the room, clearly embarrassed. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips as he sat down on the edge of the couch. He scanned the room, silently analyzing all the contents. Phil was an observer, always looking for something to spark an idea for his next painting. His eyes finally landed on an old typewriter sitting by the window, a messy heap of paper surrounding it. He hesitated for a moment—he usually didn't like prying, but there was something so fascinating about Dan, and he couldn't help but want to learn more about him. He took several steps towards the typewriter, glancing down at some of the papers surrounding it. Most of them contained a hastily written scrawl of notes, but one of the documents caught his eye. Stooping over, he tilted the paper so that he could clearly see it.  
“My Demons” The title read, sparking a burning curiosity in Phil's mind.  
The darkness clawed at my mind, daring me to give up and fall into its cold, dead grasp. I tried to escape; to run as far as I could from the grotesque monsters lurking where only the daftest of people dared to adventure. I tried to free myself from the hellish mental stage I had so foolishly allowed myself to fall into. But then again, even the most valiant and insolent of individuals would-  
"What are you doing?"  
Phil spun around, feeling like a child who had just been caught sneaking cookies before dinner. "I- I was just..."  
Dan glanced down at what he had been reading and his eyes widened. "Oh, don't tell me you read that! It's horrible!"  
It was Phil's turn to look surprised. "What do you mean it's horrible?! This is amazing!" He exclaimed, looking back down at the paper. "I didn't know you were such a gifted writer!"  
Dan blushed. "Th-thanks I guess..." He mumbled, looking down at his feet.  
"I'm serious Dan, this is incredible." Phil scanned the rest of the page, reading until it stopped.  
Dan stood next to Phil awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "It's not that good, it's just an idea I wrote down then never finished..." He trailed off awkwardly.  
"It is that good Dan." Phil smiled. "I'd love to see some of your other work sometime!"  
Dan smiled sheepishly, scratching his head. "Yeah..." They trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.  
A large clap of thunder quaked the building, causing both men to jump.  
"So,” Dan began, the rumbling dying off, “since you're going to be living in my apartment for an hour, tell me more about yourself."  
"Well," the ebony haired man began as the pair took a seat on the comfy, patchwork couch. "My name is Philip Michael Lester, but if you haven't already guessed I prefer to be called by Phil, and I'm twenty-eight... How old are you?" Phil inquired, to which Dan replied, "I'm twenty-four, I should be in my last year of university, but it just didn't work out for me..." Dan trailed off, a hint of shame and embarrassment in his voice. He knew he had good reasoning to drop out of school, but he was still worried that people would get the wrong idea of him and think he was just lazy, or stupid even.  
"What do you mean by that?" Phil asked.  
Dan hesitated, carefully thinking through his words. "Well, when I graduated high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I made the horrible decision of picking law, which I literally had no interest in whatsoever. Because of choosing something so dull and tedious, I ended up being stressed and confused by the whole subject. I spent countless nights staying up until four in the morning studying for tests that I would only end up failing. So finally, after asking several friends for advice, they agreed I should take a break year. It was during that break year that I started writing a lot, not just the short stories I had done in the past. Now I just figure that there really isn't a point in going back. I have a job and have chosen a new career path, I feel like it would do more bad than good to me right now." Dan chose to not add in the part about how he couldn't afford it anyway.  
Phil nodded sympathetically, giving Dan an understanding smile. "I think you made the right choice. It sounds like you have your life organized out now a lot more than you did then."  
Dan bowed in agreement before querying his next question. "So, speaking of uni, what did you study in college?"  
A small spark seemed to leap into Phil's eyes, though Dan figured it could just be a trick of the dim light. "I studied several different branches of art... I hoped that I might be able to get a job painting for people, you know, special requests or whatnot, but it didn't work out. Now I work at the Nightly Glass (A bar I made up) every other evening from five to eleven o'clock. Although I still paint in my spare time."  
The younger boy thought it was a bit strange that his only job was working at a bar. Judging by his clothes he seemed pretty well off. He decided not to ask about it, it didn't seem like a very appropriate topic for two people who had just met. Dan decided on a simpler question instead.  
"So, What books do you like?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a really abrupt ending. I promise actual relationship related stuff will happen between D&P soon.


	5. Chapter 5

April 17th

The duo had spent the hour discussing various books and movies they enjoyed. They were both quite surprised to learn how much they had in common.  
"So, you've watched Death Note, right?" Phil asked. They had drifted over to the topic of anime.  
"Yeah, I really—" Dan was cut short by a knocking from downstairs.  
"That would be Al," Phil stated, standing up with a sigh.  
"Oh." Dan cursed himself for sounding so obviously disappointed. He couldn’t deny he’d miss the other man’s company.

...

True to his word, Dan followed the sound of voices downstairs, a warm bundle of clothes in his hand. By the time he reached the first story, he could see that Phil was having a rather intense conversation with a brown-haired man standing by the door.  
"Look, I'm sorry okay? I'll pay you back for the gas money!"  
The very pissed-off looking man—who appeared to be in his pajamas—just scowled in response "Fine, but you owe me an hour of your life; I'm missing my TV show..."  
"I-um-I got your clothes," Dan broke up the argument quickly, the two me jumping in surprise.  
Phil took the bundle out of Dan's hands; flashing him a smile. "Thanks!"  
"Yeah um, no problem," The younger boy replied.   
"Well, I really need to get going. I'll bring your clothes by tomorrow!" Phil glanced down at the borrowed outfit. "And I know I've said it before, but really, thank you so much for letting me stay here!"  
"Yeah, it's fine!" Dan hesitated slightly before adding "I enjoyed your company, we should meet up again sometime," He felt his face redden, praying he hadn’t gotten the wrong idea. What if Phil was just being friendly? He could be in a relationship, or even straight!  
"I um...I enjoyed your company too," Phil muttered, appearing--for the first time this night--flustered.   
Al stood by the door still, yet his frown had been replaced by a smug smirk. "C'mon Phillip, let's get you home."  
Phil gave Dan a small smile before following Al out the door.

...

"Phil Lester, you are absolutely smitten. How long have you even known this guy? A few hours?" The minute the shop door had sealed, Al had begun pestering Phil about his crush.  
"I'm not smitten," Phil insisted stubbornly, sitting down in the passenger seat of Al's car. "I just think he's kind of cute is all."  
"Just ask him out! He clearly likes you." Al cranked up the car.  
"I don't even like him that much, I just think he's attractive! Besides, he's probably straight," Phil fiddled with the hem of the borrowed shirt--which he enjoyed wearing more than he'd like to admit.  
Al gave a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "Considering the way he was looking at you I doubt his sexuality will be an issue. Just give him a try Philly."  
"Don't call me Philly..." Phil muttered, watching the silhouette of his new friend as he turned off the lamp, submerging the shop into darkness.

April 18th

Dan woke up early the next morning, blinking groggily as the warm beams of morning sunlight ruptured through the cracks on his blinds.  
After contemplating whether it was really worth it to get up and start the day, he sighed and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  
Dan shivered as the cool morning air crept around his bare chest, making him long for the warmth of his bed more than ever. Dan shuffled across the red rug, brushing the curtains aside. He swung the window open, leaning out and taking a deep breath of the crisp air.  
Dan felt the tiny town of Windmere was quite underrated. He stared out at the empty streets, the sleepy town still waking up. There was little traffic, and the only noise to be heard was the singing of birds. It truly was the perfect location to live in, particularly so for a writer.  
The chiming of his usual morning alarm interrupted the still air, alerting Dan he should begin getting dressed.

...

Dan stared back at his reflection in the mirror. Although he pretended not to care, he was overly aware that Phil would probably stop by to drop off the borrowed clothes. He knew it was dumb to get all dressed up for a small conversation, but Dan had taken a liking to the man and really wanted to impress him. “Phil was just one of those people it was impossible not to like,” Dan decided as he straightened out his light gray t-shirt, making sure it fell evenly over the top of his black skinny jeans.  
After a few minutes of careful inspection, Dan figured he looked alright. He downed the rest of his tea then hurried downstairs.

...

The most part of the morning passed rather quietly, the only customers being a college student looking for cheap textbooks and an old lady buying The Hunger Games for her granddaughter.  
It wasn't until 11:26 that Phil came.  
The door swung open and a tall figure stepped in. "Hey," Dan smiled sweetly, looking up.  
"Hi!" Phil beamed, closing the door behind him. "I brought your clothes." He handed Dan a plastic shopping bag.  
Dan took the bag, setting it behind the counter.  
"Thanks again, I mean I know I've said it a lot but--"   
Dan chuckled, cutting Phil off. "It's fine, really. Don't worry about it!" Dan reassured the ebony haired man.  
Phil gave a small nod before they both fell into silence.  
Dan noticed Phil's posture looked stiffer than it had a minute ago.  
"I-um.." Phil cleared his throat, "Would you um... It's getting close to lunch and I was just wondering, would you um, would you like t-to go get lunch maybe?" Phil bit his lip in anticipation. "I-I mean you mentioned wanting to meet up again and I just thought... um... yeah...."  
It took Dan a moment to fully register that Phil had just asked him out to lunch. "Yeah! I mean, I would love to!" Dan grinned happily, causing the other boy to let out a nervous sigh.  
"How does Lou's sound?" Phil inquired.  
"Yeah, sounds great!" Dan beamed, the butterflies in his stomach swarming around violently.  
"So, when should I meet you there?" Phil asked, a lively glint in his eyes as he looked down at the brunet.  
"I get off at twelve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may start making the chapter slightly longer, what do you think?


	6. Hiatus

Hello, it's me, the author!

I was uploading this as I edited it but I have several other stories that I need to tend to as well.   
I'm going to put off working on this story for a while so that I can make it its best when I have more time.   
Thank you for reading, sorry for the inconvenience. 

-d.w.


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